Solo Siouxsie still sassy

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At the risk of sounding misanthropic, punk priestess Siouxsie Sioux admits that she's been less than thrilled with humanity of late — with wars, genocide, global warming all caused by mankind.

The Brit, who lives in the French countryside, says, "There are many wonders in the world, but God, people are the weirdest."

There are only two creatures she trusts, unconditionally, she says: "My two cats, Spider, the black one, and Dandy, my white tabby. They're getting on in years at 16, but they're still acting very kittenish. And I'm waiting for a letter from the Queen, wishing them happy centenary birthday."

Now that this Siouxsie and the Banshees founder has split from her husband (and longtime partner in spinoff duo the Creatures) Budgie, it's just her and the felines, haunting a rambling old Addams Family estate.

"So Spider and Dandy have the run of the place now, or I get to invite my friends over more. I had a great birthday — I had 10 people staying in my house for my (50th) birthday last year, which was pretty amazing."

In more ways than one, Sioux may be better off alone. Her latest album, "Mantaray," is her first "Siouxsie"-billed solo set, and easily her most creative work in years. Her tour hits the Fillmore in San Francisco for two shows, Tuesday and Feb. 13.

With both the Banshees and the Creatures "done and dusted," Sioux says, she broke out of her familiar backing-band comfort zone with new producers Steve Evans and Charlie Jones.

"People who actually play on the record, as well … I think it gave an immediacy and physicality to the whole thing, which is what I knew I was looking for."

Adding extra oomph to Goth-edged anthems like "Into a Swan" was the 30th anniversary of punk rock; overseeing the reissue of her classic '78 debut "The Scream," she adds, "was something I was initially dreading, but it was actually really inspiring, hearing where I was back then. It gave me a real confidence and booster to move forward."

After all, there's only one Siouxsie. Several years ago in San Francisco, the ebony-attired artist was strolling down Polk Street when a passing pedicab driver sneered 'Nice Siouxsie Sioux costume, honey!' "

In towering stilettos, she clacked after him, collared him at a red light and snarled 'I am Siouxsie Sioux, ---hole.’ " The man pedaled her, gratis, all over town in reverent apology.

So she still has the same punk attitude, she believes. "And you end up thinking how lucky you are to have that, like 'Damn! I'm doing something that I love — that's how I earn my living!'"